Mentor and Apprentice
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: A drabbling collection of funny and cute father/son stuff.
1. Unorthodox

**A/N: I can't help myself. Really, I can't. I die a little inside whenever I think of something hilarious to put in this series and I can't put it off any longer.**

**This series is about cute things that Robin does that either A) pisses off Batman, B) pisses off Bruce, C) leads to an adorable father/son moment, or D) leads to me cracking up while writing it. SO HERE GOES NOTHING! And yes, they will all most likely be quite short but posted frequently.**

**Disclaimer: Do you think I own Young Justice? Huh? Do ya?**

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><p>Irresistibly cute? Batman wouldn't say that. No, not in a million years. Somewhat funny, if he were able to laugh, but no, not cute.<p>

His protégé had been knocked unconscious and was limp over his father's shoulder, carrying the boy by his foot. Sure, it was unorthodox, but who was really watching? It was like a five-minute walk. The kid would be fine.

Robin flopped around over his mentor's shoulder, arms flailing in a hobbling sort of way and his head lolled from side to side as his tongue stuck out.

Now, if he were in Gotham, this would be looked at strangely. Walking through Mount Justice was much, much more awkward.

"What happened to him?" asked Kid Flash with an incredulous stare into the masked face of the kid who was hanging on the Dark Knight almost like a second cape. "And why are you carrying him like that? Sheesh, Bats, don't you know how to treat people?"

Grumbling. Mumbled, unintelligible words. The kid would be fine. Batman just had to put him down somewhere and the fastest way to carry him was to sling him over one shoulder and hold him by his foot. Why was that so strange?

For many reasons, but no one would dare question the Caped Crusader's methods. Why? Hell, if the name "Batman" wasn't scary enough, imagine challenging "Batman" in a "heated debate". Yeah, that was scarier.

"The world is upside down…"

Well, he was _supposed_ to be unconscious…

"Hey, you can put him down now." Kid Flash had stopped after Batman had walked past him and continued on across the space towards the door that would take them back to Gotham in a second. "He's awake."

Robin, of course, wasn't making any protests. Instead, he was reaching for his ankle that his mentor's grip had latched onto. "I can't-" He did a sit-up, hands just inches short of his foot. "-reach-" Another attempt. The tips of his fingers grazed the fabric, but no real touch came. "-my foot." He flailed again to no avail. "Can someone help me?" He lay back to his original position, and that was when his hidden blue eyes found the form of Kid Flash standing a few meters away. "Wally, get me down!"

"No, bro, I'm not messing with Daddy-Bat!"

Fifteen years old and still being carried by his foot by his father. Shame. He let out a sigh and began his mantra. "Thank you for carrying me home and taking care of me and feeding me and everything else. And making me an awesome kick-ass fighter!" He gave a little punch to prove his point. "I'm sorry that I slandered your honor and got knocked unconscious by the Joker. Can you please put me dow- OW!"

"Literally dropped on your head."

"Ow…"

"Nice, dude."

"Shut up, Wally."

The cave announced Batman's departure and Robin had to jump to his feet and scurry off while pulling his cape off his head so he didn't get left behind. Disgraced. Damn, why did Bruce have to be so irritating sometimes? "You slandered my honor now," commented Dick as he pulled off the mask once the cave dissolved into view around them. The piece of fabric was tossed to the side.

"I'm allowed to do that." Batman was making his way to the chair, pulling off his mask to reveal Bruce beneath it. "I'm your father."

A few unintelligible words were mumbled from the apprentice.

"Don't do that. It's a bad habit." Bruce was going to teach this kid whether Dick liked it or not.

"Fine." But it was still grumbled.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, Bruce is very unorthodox. Reviews are great! More chapters to be posted soon! As in, like, tomorrow perhaps.**

**~Sky**


	2. Breaking Stuff

**A/N: Another piece of this. Kind of slow.**

**Sidenote: I'm trying to get Dick at different ages just to show how things change over time and stuff. Be sure to watch the timestamps and such on him.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything. If I did, that'd rock.**

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><p>As an acrobat, he had a habit of falling down, tumbling randomly across the room, and doing back flips off of any object big enough to fit two feet on. It was part of the job description. Another part of being an acrobat was hanging on stuff that wasn't supposed to be hung on.<p>

That's how he got up to Bruce's chandelier. Well, for starters, it was shiny. He was ten and a smart kid, but no one could resist shiny things. And it had a lot of tiny little diamonds on it like a thousand tiny raindrops suspended in midair by the rest of the art piece. There were three things that drew him to the toy: the height, the shiny baubles, and the fact that he wasn't supposed to be touching it.

Heights were always fun. He'd been a little wary of using ropes that weren't enforced with titanium like the ones that Batman and Robin used on their nightly runs of Gotham, but he was alright with some things. A chandelier wasn't bad at all. The vaulted ceilings made it that much higher up, but it didn't matter too much. Having it off the ground was enough to make him want to play with it.

The fascination with shiny things was just a curse more than anything. He had the eyes of an eagle for anything that sparkled or glowed in the moonlight. Or in any lighting for that matter. He just liked bright things; they made him forget about the darkness.

And he wasn't supposed to touch it. Bruce had strictly forbidden it. "Dick, if you lay a finger on this, you're cleaning the Batmobile for the next month." And he _hated_cleaning the Batmobile. But it was so pretty... and so high... It was practically begging to be swung from.

So Dick, being the intelligent and sophisticated boy he was, devised the ultimate plan to play on the fancy chandelier. Because he couldn't help himself! He just wanted to go play on it so badly... And cleaning the Batmobile wasn't too terrible a punishment... The boy stood at the railing, hands holding onto it in a death grip whilst his feet kept him pinned there. Crouching against a banister. Waiting for the right moment to pounce.

A little glimmer of light caught his eye and he was launching himself at the chandelier. His hands found the intricately designed glass first. They wrapped tightly around the bars that held the little baubles and other sparkly things together. Yes, chandeliers were fun.

High in the air, far above the ground, Dick watched the world go by in his little nest, invisible as long as no one looked up. He watched Bruce pass beneath him a few times; Alfred also walked through and sometimes called out for the boy, but Richard would be silent, his hand covering his mouth to keep the little giggles from spilling out.

It was near midnight when he figured he had to get down.

Until he found that he'd subconsciously wedged his foot between two bars of heavy glass. The boy had leapt down, or at least attempted to, and had found himself only seconds later hanging by his foot from the chandelier. Richard flailed for a moment before realizing he was stuck. Completely and utterly stuck. Hanging upside down. From Bruce's expensive chandelier. Made of glass and other fine crystal.

Dick groaned. His foot was pinned. He was stuck. And could the day get any worse? A crackling sound came from above him. "Crap." The ten-year-old reached up, trying to grope for his foot to get himself free. How come this always happened to him? Why? Why him? Bruce was gonna kill him… More crackling sounded from above him. "Crap, crap, crap, crap…" He flailed more, only making the shattering sound above him ring louder in his ears as the glass that had held the chandelier to the ceiling broke, sending the thing plummeting towards the earth.

The smash that occurred when the thing hit the ground scared him more than the thought of Bruce making him wash the Batmobile for a month. Even more than cleaning the thing for the next year. All he saw were shards of flying glass and the world going topsy-turvy, looking a bit like a kaleidoscope through his fearful azure eyes. All he knew was duck and cover; tornado drills at school actually were good for something.

"Master Richard!"

After the sound had subsided and his racing heart had stopped threatening to burst out of his chest, the boy managed to look up to see the butler scurrying over through the wreckage of Bruce's fancy new toy. The kid was quickly pulled out of the pile of glass shards, blood seeping from a few cuts and scratches that had accompanied his fall.

"Dick…" The boy visibly flinched although Bruce's voice was more concerned than angry. Warm arms picked him up as he sucked the blood off of a finger that had been sliced open. "I cannot believe you did that…"

He stared up at his adopted father with big, innocent blue eyes. "I was just playing around… I didn't think it'd break…" The kid continued to suck on his finger, wanting all the pain to go away. All he could see was cuts that lined his pale skin like tiny tattoos.

A heavy sigh and a heartbeat later, Dick found himself being hugged to Bruce's warm chest. "Stop scaring me like that." There was walking as the young boy snuggled against his father, the hurt searing into his skin like a fire. "I'll get you patched up, then you can go to bed. Tomorrow morning, you're cleaning the Batmobile."

A groan came, but Dick would have to accept his punishment. He _had_ been warned… The kid would have to get a very, very good night's sleep to be able to wash that stupid car in the morning. But he'd enjoy the moment of peace while it lasted. Bruce wasn't yelling, that was a good sign.

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><p><strong>AN: Short. Next one will be epic. Probably be posted on Wednesday, how's that sound? Review!**

**~Sky**


	3. Hungover

**A/N: Short, yes, but it does say a lot about the relationship.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Young Justice. When are new episodes coming out?**

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><p>Hungover didn't even describe how bad he was feeling. The pulsing pain in his head was rhythmic with his heartbeat. He almost wondered if it was his heart. But hearing it thumping in his head... The billionaire couldn't understand it. Damn, if only he hadn't had those last two drinks... The shots had been so tempting... The wine too perfect to pass up... And who was Bruce Wayne to refuse beer with pretty women?<p>

He could only take the steps one at a time. One foot. Then the next on the same step. Then that first foot again. Then the other. The stairs took twice as long that morning. He was lucky that he didn't fall down and crack his skull open.

The searing, throbbing hurt in his head wouldn't stop. He was cringing against all the light that was shining in through the cracks of the curtains. It was a little after noon. He was supposed to be at work hours ago, but being the boss did have it's perks. He could just skip a day, no sweat. His real issue was just getting through this hangover. The throbbing in his head intensified at the thought of having to work the Knight Shift with his partner. Of course, that was hours away yet...

The big room that was usually lit by the natural light that filtered through the windows was shrouded with the dark, heavy curtains that clung to every pane. Black shadows encompassed the room except for a faint glow from a laptop and the little shafts of sunlight that managed to sneak their way through the cracks in the curtains.

"Hey." Dick's voice was a mere whisper as he approached his mentor with a steaming mug in his hands. The boy pressed the cup of black coffee into Bruce's hand.

Even the whisper hurt the playboy's head.

"I got coffee, made Alfred keep the blinds closed, called the office and took care of everything." The kid's blue eyes flashed in the darkness as he moved back over to his laptop, the faint white glow illuminating the eleven-year-old's boyish face. Richard pulled the computer back onto his lap after fixing a pillow behind him. "And I took the liberty of calling off your date this afternoon with Miss Lila."

"Protective, are we?" asked Bruce as he dropped onto the couch in a deep shadow, far away from his ward. He sipped his coffee and forced a small smile despite the throbbing in his skull and churning of his innards.

"There's a reason you're hungover," said Dick knowingly as he slipped one headphone on his ear, "and its name is Miss Lila." The boy then went back to his work, watching the illegal trading business of the Joker and Penguin through cash exchanges and boat inventory with his laptop; it was a job that Batman would usually take, but Robin was fine with his duties for the day. As long as it was only for the day. Protective, maybe, but it was for his mentor's own good. The apprentice had picked up some of his own tricks over the years.

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><p><strong>AN: Review!**

**~Sky**


	4. Rooms

**A/N: So this is what I did with my spare time at three o' clock in the morning.**

**Disclaimer: Do not own.  
><strong>**Warning: May be hard to translate.**

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><p>It was a long day. Work. More work. Lunch. More work. Still more work. Dinner. Batman work. Batman patrolling. Batman work. Sleep time.<p>

He had already lost his cape and such down in the Batcave. He'd sloppily gotten his suit back on before heading up through the elevator to the main room of the manor, emerging from behind the massive grandfather clock. The stairs seemed longer than usual. Too many of them, really. Part of him wondered why he even kept so many floors on this house if he was never going to use any of them.

Losing his tie somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs, he didn't bother to go back. He had a goal in mind: his bed.

Dick had disappeared a few minutes ago after hauling on a pair of pants and staggering to the elevator and disappearing to wherever he disappeared to at night. He just had his habit of vanishing.

So when he walked into the black cavern of his room only to see his bed already occupied, he was only half-awake to wonder what the heck his ward was thinking. Dropping his nice brown shoes beside the door and watching the kid jolt awake, Bruce moved towards the bed with sluggish steps. It was near three in the morning and he just wanted to catch a few hours of rest after dueling with Penguin who was being stupid, as usual.

One gentle hand shook the form of the tired boy who was only half-conscious. "Dick."

"I just gooot here." His voice was high and whiny as the nine-year-old shied away from his mentor's touch. "Lemme sleeeeep." And he tugged the blankets a little tighter around him.

"Dick." Bruce didn't want to wake the kid up, but come on, it was _his_ bed. "This is my room." He just wanted to sleep. Why did his son have to choose tonight for this?

"Nu-uh." The kid's voice was sleepy and it was obvious his eyes were barely even slits. " 't's mine." He didn't move.

"My bed," said Bruce a bit more firmly. If worse came to worse, he could just pick the kid up and move him, but that would take more effort and more energy. He shook the kid a bit more, still gentle.

A moan came from Dick. "I wanna sleeeeep. This is the o'ly bed in the 'ho manor that I hav-eh slept i'. I switch bed ev' nigh' since I got here and 'is o'ly one left."

"Dick." Bruce had been unaware of this quest to stay in every room until now. Alfred probably knew. Alfred knew everything. Plus, he was the one always making the beds. "This is my bed. You can't sleep in this one."

"I call dibs!" he shouted in his tired voice that was slurring words and dropping letters like he'd forgotten everything that 'Hooked on Phonics' taught him.

"I lived here first," noted Bruce with a light smile on his face.

Dick clutched at the pillow that supported his head. "Nu-uh."

How the boy was managing to protest while half-asleep, Bruce had no idea. But for some reason, he felt like the kid was winning. "I was born first."

"Nu-uh."

There was a long pause and near perfect silence except for the breathing of the two. Then Bruce spoke up. "At least move over."

When his son didn't respond, the billionaire knew his ward had lost his battle with unconsciousness. All it took was a careful shove to get the boy moved so there was enough room for his mentor beside him.

Alfred's only comment the next morning was "I'm so glad I don't have to search for Master Richard."

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><p><strong>AN: Review.**

**~Sky**


	5. Almost Breakfast

**A/N: Originally, this started off as something else, but someone commented that I have a problem with giving Dick cereal. (Look to "How We Fall" for the cereal thing.) So I had to change that. And this became a completely different idea. Whoops! Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: No, don't own, quit harping at me, hiatus should be over soon.**

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><p>Impromptu, of course. Bruce could never make things easy.<p>

Dick was half managing to pull on his tights and work with the cape in the other hand while the domino mask sat nearby just waiting to hide the baby blue eyes that belonged to its master. The kid got the tights on and wrapped the cape around his neck. He had to take it off after noting that he had completely forgotten the upper half of his costume.

"Two minutes," came Batman's voice as footsteps passed.

Dick got his head into the tunic before getting his arms through as well. Then another attempt at the cape. He remembered his shirt this time, which was a bonus.

The Justice League. He was going to meet _the _Justice League. World-renowned superheroes coming from the ocean and the Heavens. Everyone from Green Lantern to Flash. His mind was racing. Aliens, Amazons, archers. So much to deal with. And he was only eight and a half. Life was hard!

The domino mask was pulled on sloppily and Alfred handed him a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon as he passed, a breakfast for the little bird before he went off on his big mission of the day. "Thanks," breathed the boy before shoveling food into his mouth and moving to go meet Bruce.

Then he turned around to go get his shoes. He probably needed shoes.

"Come on, Dick," came his mentor's voice.

"Co'i'g," was Dick's reply through the strip of back that he held in his teeth. Why so early in the morning? Not like the Hall of Justice was going anywhere! It was six in the morning, dang it. He'd spent most of his night listening to the pitter-patter-pitter-patter of the rain on the mansion's roof. Sleeping wasn't always his main priority. So waking up at six A.M. wasn't exactly going to get him his eight hours of sleep. Hell, being Robin wasn't going to get him his eight hours of sleep.

"Zeta beam is ready, where are you?"

"Two seconds!" He laced up his shoe but didn't get to tie it. He decided to run the risk of tripping. He'd be fine, right? As long as he didn't faceplant and fall off a cliff or something stupid. That would definitely suck.

He saw a scraggly little kid running up to him with a backwards shirt, an untied shoe, half his mask falling off, and a plate of breakfast in hand. Batman shook his head as his apprentice stood beside him in the zeta beam teleporter. The little bird proudly chirped, "Ready!"

If Bruce was going to be cruel, he was going to tell the kid that he needed about two more hours of sleep. If he was going to be the worst mentor in the world, he would've hit the teleporter's switch and transported them to the Hall of Justice.

Instead, being the good parent he was, he let out a sigh. "Richard, you look like you spent five minutes getting ready."

"But I did!" protested the child through a mouth of scrambled eggs, his one revealed eye wide and innocent, almost offended.

With another sigh, Bruce stepped out of the teleporter. "You're not meeting the League like that."

"I'm fine!" He knew his shoe was untied and that his mask was hanging off, but that wasn't too bad. Slap the mask back on and what was the difference? Shoes could be untied. It was just for a minute.

"Come here."

Robin listened, albeit reluctantly. He thought he was fine.

Bruce removed the cape and took the plate of food from his partner. "Fix your shirt." He knelt down to tie the kid's shoe.

Face burning red hot with embarrassment, the raven-haired boy pulled his arms into the tunic, turned it around, and stuck his arms back out. "If you had given me more warning...," said Robin as he put another strip of bacon in his mouth.

Batman stood up, towering over his ward. "Just eat the bacon, Dick. Be quiet and eat the bacon." He took one glove off and put it over his shoulder before using his hand to smooth out Richard's mask so it stuck to his face properly. The blue eye was hidden once more.

"I'm not a morning person," huffed Dick before taking another bite out of his bacon.

Bruce picked up the cape where he had dropped it before carefully wrapping it around his partner and fastening it at his young son's neck. "Neither am I." Finally satisfied, Bruce looked back to make sure they weren't missing anything. Mask on, shoe tied, shirt right, cape hanging straight, eating bacon... The Dark Knight almost smiled. He was lucky to have gotten a good kid. Dick had his head on straight, had his mind made up, had his whole life ahead of him, the skills of a master... Batman could never have a better protege.

Alfred walked past, handing a plate of breakfast to the Caped Crusader. "Master Bruce."

Instead of leaving, mentor and apprentice sat down in the middle of the floor and enjoyed what was supposed to be breakfast. Dick decided that this was breakfast Batman-and-Robin-style. Good enough for him.

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><p><strong>AN: Originally, he was going to meet the League, Flash was going to try to take his cereal, and Robin was going to bite him. That didn't happen and instead, you get a messy robin and an Almost Breakfast. Review!**

**~Sky**


	6. Slut Woman or Wonder Slut

**A/N: Hehe, yeah, I love this story. Robin is approx. eleven years old.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own.  
><strong>**Warning: Wonder Woman bashing. Sort of. If you like her, don't read. Also, mucho language.**

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><p>He watched her sashay away like she had the greatest ass he had ever seen. "Who. Was <em>that<em>?" asked Robin with a hotdog in one hand and an armful of potato chip bags in the other, Barry Allen's request. He'd just missed the party apparently as he watched the bodacious woman walk away with Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern at her sides.

"Wonder Woman."

She was one of the few League members he still hadn't met. Whenever they were all hanging around in the Batcave, Wonder Woman was always off doing something else or whenever she was in the cave, he was at school or trapped doing his homework.

Robin began laughing. Laughing like it was nobody's business. Because he thought it'd been a joke, all the sexified photos of the Amazon princess that had been scattered across newspaper stands and magazines and such. He thought they had photoshopped the costume on her and given her bigger breasts, but damn was he wrong. All of it was the real deal. He was nearly on the floor laughing so hard. He'd already dropped all the chips and his hotdog.

Behind the cowl, Bruce raised an eyebrow. What was so funny? He didn't get it; it was just Wonder Woman. No biggie.

Robin managed to regain some form of speech and began to say, "I thought... I thought her costume would be something more..." He had to gasp for air. "...more modest... for a hero, you know?" He let loose another chain of giggles. "But I was wrong. She's not Wonder Woman, she's Slut Woman! Or Wonder Slut!" His grin would've been contagious had the topic not been serious and had emotional ties. "She's a hero, not a whore, god, what's she thinking?" He tried to stand up only to find Bruce's fingers tightly gripping his ear. "Wait, what did I-"

"I'll need Alfred to wash out your mouth with soap." Bruce dragged his ward, yes, by his ear, towards the elevator. "And you won't address her by either of those names."

Robin was in serious pain, but he was still capable of thinking. He noticed how Batman sometimes came back from missions he'd been on with Wonder Woman a bit starry-eyed or distracted, but he never would've put it together until- "Oh my god, you and Wonder Woman have a _THANG_!"

He got a good bop on the head and a quick "Shut up" from his father before the elevator doors closed.

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><p><strong>AN: Just being funny. Robin's so… hilarious. Again, he's eleven, I know eleven year olds that are like this. Legit. So review and thanks for reading.**

**~Sky**


	7. Bruce's Birthday

**A/N: I had this one stashed away. I have a list of everything I need to write. Right now, it's kind of on overload mode -_-'**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own. Why do I have to keep on doing this?**

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><p>An eleven-year-old Dick took his father's hand and led him towards the clock where the elevator down into the Batcave was hidden. He was grinning manically, something Bruce knew he only did when he was either scheming or trying to convince Barry that he needed more ice cream and winning.<p>

"Dick-"

"You'll love it, I promise, just be quiet, and I'll show you a world of awesome!" On the last word, his hands splayed out and he waved them both as if he were about to put on a magic show.

Bruce shook his head. He had a strange kid, that was for sure.

"Now close your eyes."

If there was anything Bruce hated more than having show him "a world of awesome", it was the fact that it was his birthday and that was trying to show him "a world of awesome". Because the kid knew the billionaire hated his birthday the same way he hated every other day in the year. "Richard John Grayson, if this is a surprise party in the Batcave-"

The child's eyes went wide and his smirk immediately vanished. His thoughts? _Crap, crap, crappity crap. _"Okay, give me ten seconds."

Bruce was silent as he watched his ward sheepishly smile and vanish down the elevator.

Three seconds later, before the elevator's door closed above, Bruce could hear his ward's scream- "Okay, we have ten seconds to clean it all up and for me to make up something awesome, so GO!"

With a sigh, Bruce continued to listen. He could hear Barry Allen's exasperated voice asking, "_What_?"

"I said GO!"

There was a pause. "No, you cannot take the presents, Wally! I still need those!"

Five minutes later, Dick came back up. "Alright, we're retreating to the living room now. I'm going to… bring you… cookies… or something." He grabbed his adopted father's hand and began to drag him out, the Batcave already forgotten.

Until another five minutes later, Wally came up with half of a cake in hand, a Bat Logo clearly imprinted on it, and asked if he could eat the rest of it since Barry dropped the thing.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, Dick threw Bruce a Batman themed party. There's a sequel to this, will be posted eventually. Review.**

**~Sky**


	8. 3D TV

**A/N: *headdesk* Hey, sorry for the slow updates. Really behind schedule. I've got a request I'm doing for another fandom and also co-storying with someone, and I've got school and golf… Life's a little crazy. This is why we have FanFiction.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything.**

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><p>"Okay, I did something stupid, but you'll thank me for it in a minute."<p>

Yes, because that's always the best way to start out a conversation with Batman.

Robin grabbed his father's hand and began to drag him towards the Batcave's secret entrance. He pushed his father into the elevator before sliding in himself and pushing the button.

Bruce could only feel something stupid coming on. He loved the kid, but he didn't have the best track record of being thanked for stupid things. Neither did Flash for that matter.

The sixteen-year-old scampered out of the elevator, nearly falling over his cape as he raced towards the massive computer, the new screen shiny and fresh. "Okay, watch this." He snatched the remote and turned it on. "Prepare to be amazed."

The Caped Crusader stepped out of the elevator and quietly followed his adopted son. He almost asked what Dick had done until he saw the screen of the massive tv going blurry. "Richard-"

"It's cool, I promise you!" Dick was already slipping on a pair of sunglasses. No, not sunglas- "Here are yours. Put those on and prepare to be amazed!"

He didn't want to upset his ward; upsetting Dick would mean dealing with teenage hormones and a lot of yelling, and Bruce definitely did /not/ want to get into that. Not with such a smart, talented, and cocky kid. Anyone else, sure, why not? Dick? Nope, wasn't going to happen.

Bruce put the glasses on.

"I, being awesome, as I am, bought us- drum roll please-"

"Dick." It was his "get to the point or I'm leaving" voice, eyes hard as stone as they watched his overjoyed ward do his thing, being overly exuberant and all.

"It's a 3D tv!" He pumped one fist into the air, something he'd clearly picked up from the West boy.

Bruce was unimpressed.

Crestfallen, Richard looked to his mentor. "C'mon, Bruce! It's cool! Check this out!" He leapt into the chair- Bruce's chair- and began typing away, bring up criminal files and background checks and such. "Everything's in 3D now! You can look at specific stats individually and they're popping out of the screen! You can't tell me that this isn't awesome."

It wasn't awesome. Bruce kept quiet.

"You have to give it a try!" He spun around, grateful for the spinny chair. "Let's turn on... Here, we'll turn on Spanish soap operas!"

For the next twenty minutes, they both sat engrossed in the love rhombus of Sabrina Andelejo, Josephine Rosetta, Nicolas Magdelenas, and Soto Terrie. Bruce was the first to shake out of it. He couldn't believe how easily he'd gotten distracted... "Alright, the tv can stay."

Once again, Dick pumped his fist in the air and did a little happy dance whilst sitting in the chair.

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><p>Five hours later, Bruce was making his way down to the Batcave, his ward already getting suited up for the long night of patrols, bad guys, and rooftop jumping. He also moved to get on his cape and cowl just as his son was emerging. "I'll get the super cool new tv started up," he said while wearing his "I was right, and I'm totally awesome" grin. He darted off, eyes searching for the remote.<p>

About ten minutes later, Bruce emerged with his restocked utility belt, cowl over his face to hide his striking blue eyes, and the cape flapping against his back as if he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "What does the computer say?" asked Batman after approaching his little bird on silent feet, the boy jumping at the sound of his voice.

Robin cleared his throat quickly before saying, "No activity as of now." The sixteen-year-old was wearing his glasses over the domino mask. "Which means we can probably expect Joker to show up some time tonight." Robin handed up another pair of glasses to his mentor; Batman took them without a word. "Or Scarecrow. Those two always like to ruin the quiet nights."

Bruce put the glasses on as he had earlier-

-only to have them slide off his face.

He managed to catch them with his ninja reflexes while Robin babbled on about the statistics of Joker or Scarecrow showing up on Gotham's quietest nights. Again, Bruce tried to put the 3D glasses on-

-only to have them fall off his face a second time.

The World's Greatest Detective took three more tries before figuring out he couldn't wear them because he didn't have ears or his nose to brace them on with his cowl on. It didn't work that way, obviously. Bruce grumbled for a moment, his ward not hearing him over the sound of his own voice yammering on about how often people tried to blow up Gotham after a quiet night or how busy the next night almost always was.

Like Hell was he going to put his cowl down every time he had to look at the tv screen. It'd be too much work. He put the glasses down on the computer's keyboard with a bit of force. "Get the old tv back."

Dick had paused and turned around to see his father walking away, anger rolling off of him in waves. It took him a few moments to get it. And then he laughed. Subconsciously annoying Bruce would never get old...

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	9. Capes

**A/N: So here's the latest update. You ready for it?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own. At all.**

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><p>I<p>

"Have you ever noticed that if you walk fast enough with a blanket tied around your neck that it looks like a cape?"

Bruce sipped on his coffee and looked across the table at his nine-year-old protege. He wasn't going to comment. The kid was probably going to say more anyways. He usually did. But just looking across the table, he saw his ward, the raven-haired child looking a little scruffy, as he usually did in the morning. The boy wore a blanket around his neck.

Alfred placed the boy's breakfast in front of him before moving away, back to the kitchen.

Dick eyed the food, but his mind was still running with a other thought. He didn't even touch his toast but instead stood up and paced to the end of the table before pacing back again on fast feet. "See? It looks like a cape."

The blanket was a shade of deep blue, something he'd brought with him from the small trailer he'd once called home back when he was still with Haley's. He'd come to carry it around a bit, almost like Linus from all those Peanuts comic strips that Bruce read each weekend in the Sunday papers. "You look more like Darth Vader to me," commented Bruce wryly, a little half-smile perching itself on his thin, pale lips.

"Darth Vader wears a cape," said Dick before reaching for his toast as he paced past his breakfast. He took a bite of toast before saying with his mouth full of warm, golden brown bread, "So that simile makes sense." He swallowed that bite. "Now if you'd compared me to Uncle Barry, we would've had an issue. 'cause Uncle Barry does not-" Another bite of toast as he continued to pace the length of the table. "-wear a cape."

Bruce sipped more of his coffee as his foster son paced, cape flowing behind him. The man smiled to himself and listened to the kid ramble on and on. Something about that boy...

II

"I most definitely fit into this." A seventeen-year-old Dick Grayson pulled Batman's cowl over his head, the mask not fitting perfectly, but it was close enough for government work. "I mean, come on, this cape is perfect on me." The teen was wearing the biggest smirk Bruce had ever seen on him. "Look at that. Matches my hair and eyes and everything. See that? I was _meant_to be Batman."

Bruce's blue eyes glittered for a moment before he pulled the cowl back off his son's head. "Richard John Grayson..."

"_What am I ever going to do with you?_" recited Dick all too well, a little sarcastic edge hanging off of his now deeper voice. The kid grabbed the mask back (nicely, of course) and pulled it back over his head. "Bruce, please? Just for one night? You play surveillance with Babs and let me go out as the Dark Knight? As the World's Greatest Detective? Just give me one shot, please? Just one?" He gave the pouting face to his father, blue gaze shining behind the white eyes of the mask.

There was no real need for Robin to the playing in a bat's cave, but really, where was the harm in one night? Joker was locked away, Penguin had been shipped off to Venezuela, Belle Reve was housing Clayface and Scarecrow...

III

Later that night, Bruce had had to pull the cape off of Dick to treat his bloodied wounds and mutilated arm.

Clearly it had been the wrong night to make such a mistake as handing down the cowl.

Never again.

IV

"No cape, look at that." Dick was now flaunting his new costume in front of his mentor, the blue and black display of Nightwing standing in front of the Caped Crusader. "I am my own entity, _and _I changed costumes." Nightwing smirked to himself and would probably have been taunting his father had he not respected Wayne so much.

Bruce, a realist, was always such a party-pooper when it came to Dick trying to prove a point. "In all honesty, you just switched logos, changed colors, and took off the cape." He looked over his son's handiwork. "It's the same material as Robin's suit and you're still wearing the same mask as you used to."

Behind that mask, Grayson's baby blue eyes widened. "Don't forget the belt," remarked the younger, the makings of a scowl planted on his face.

"And there's no belt," said Bruce with a shadow of a smile, glad to see that the kid hadn't lost his spunk in the years they'd been apart. "But the only really significant change is the lack of the cape."

"I took Supes's advice." Dick smiled, arms folding across his chest. "He always said 'No capes, no tights, no offense.' It's something I plan to live by."

"Still wearing tights though, I see."

Richard's lips pursed into a pout that was all too familiar to the Dark Knight. "And you're still raining on parades."

Bruce only wished he could go back to the days when that man was walking around in the dining room looking like Darth Vader.

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><p><strong>AN: Short, but it was in multiple chapters of one one-shot. That's my lame excuse. So review?**

**~Sky**


	10. Top Dog

**A/N: Long time no update, my bad. Crazy weekend, trying to get my fill of epic music… So here's my little note for this chapter: It does have Tim in it, although it does mainly feature Dick. 'cause I know virtually nothing about Tim.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. At all. Nope, not yet.**

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><p>Tim's eyes widened as he looked up at the older boy who was flashing perfect smiles at the camera while shaking a hand with his foster father. The child observed how Grayson carried himself and how, despite all the tension before this moment, he was keeping a level head and a calm disposition. It was like this wasn't even the same man that had been arguing with Bruce a few minutes ago. This was... This was peaceful.<p>

Then again, the media always carried heavy influence on decisions...

It was like watching a schizophrenic quiet his inner demons when the cameras went quiet and the reporters had all scattered into their respective stations or papers as Dick and Bruce closed the gap between them, fierce whispers being exchanged in hushed, angry voices. The calm shattered as soon as Dick's anger was unleashed once again.

"I don't know how you could do this to another-"

"This is none of your business, Richard."

"I was the first one! You don't think this matters to me?"

"Richard John Grayson-"

"You don't have the right to use tha-"

"Dick, quiet."

And Grayson went silent, pulling away from his mentor's fake hug with a bit of a shove off the older man. Recomposing, Dick looked to his tie and began to straighten it while his eyes burned with raw rage. He straightened his jacket, tidy as ever, and gave a sigh while trying to find the right words to say.

Because he was Robin, not this little weasel. Sure, Nightwing, yay, fun, but legit, Robin was _his_ name that _his_mom gave him. The first punk was bad enough, getting killed and all, but now this, a third, after all they'd been through... A sneer rose to Richard's scornful features.

"I don't know why you'd do this to him." His blue eyes never met Wayne's. "After how bad I got beat up all those times. After what happened to Jason." A little anger clung to his words despite his efforts to push it away. "This kid doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

"Neither did you."

"Because I was the guinea pig, Bruce. Jason was the human testing. Now this one's gonna be the real deal?" A snort of doubt and disgust. "You're sick. Getting kids killed throughout Gotham, yup, that's Batman. He goes through Robins like Bruce Wayne goes through women."

Tim was now terrified. Yeah, he knew about Batman. Yes, he'd heard stories about Jason already. But now facing the first Robin, the first one ever, Nightwing, Dick Grayson, and suddenly the whole thing was so much more serious. This was not a game to be lost.

Frustration came off of Bruce in waves. Between his son's furious attitude towards Jason's death and then towards Bruce himself, now Tim. This was going a bit too far. "That's enough, Dick."

"I'm just offering to teach him stuff so he doesn't get himself killed like Jason did. If he's gonna be the real deal, he'll have to learn from the mistakes of the first, doesn't he?"

A pause in the discussion, everything slamming to a screeching halt. This was not how Bruce had expected this discussion to go. He'd expected a fight. Grayson and Wayne blowing out right in front of the cameras. He retreats to his new hideaway, goes Nightwing, and steals the limelight, all the cameras on the new vigilante in town.

"You want to help?" questioned Bruce, truly wanting a real answer. Because if his son was here to just screw around with his replacement's replacement, the man was not in the mood to deal with this.

"I won't let another kid die under your wing." His eyes were somber when he did look up; he knew the tortures the Joker could deliver. He could delve into the details of every knife he'd endured, every gas he'd been exposed to, each time he'd nearly drowned, and every fire that had almost killed him. Dick remembered everything from those days. It wasn't something Drake needed to go through. "We can't let you keep going through sidekicks like this. Babs would kill me."

Dick left after growing out of his wings, Jason had been bombed, and Barbara was paralyzed. Tim was the next generation. Wincing at the thought, he realized how terribly right his son was. "You're willing to stay at the manor?"

"If I can have my old room."

"I'll call Alfred." He reached into his jacket and produced the latest phone Wayne Enterprises had created, the newest, most innovated thing on the market right now.

Tim, still a little dumbfounded by all of this happening so fast, was caught unaware when he found Grayson staring at him with hard, cold azure eyes. "Let's get one thing straight, Drake," came Richard's hiss, voice nearly feral. "I'm top dog around here, and when it comes down to it, I'm his son, not you."

Tim, now questioning his choice to be Robin, took a step away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Just don't think that we're equals, that's what we need to get out in the open. I will always be better than you." With his piece said, his song sung, Dick shoved his hands in his pockets and, with a still fierce expression, moved off towards the buffet that the charity event had to offer. A wheelchair rolled up beside him, and they moved together, completely in-sync as they had been years and years ago.

"Don't worry about him," came Bruce's gentle, breathy voice behind him. "He's possessive because he was hurt as a child. He doesn't like to lose people close to him." A hand found Tim's shoulder; a light squeeze was given. "Stay off his bad side and we should survive."

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	11. Headbanging

**A/N: Just because I could, mostly. I've got a few more up my sleeve that should be posted pretty rapidly as soon as I find time.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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><p>He found nothing more annoying than the rockstars on tv with the ridiculously long hair that they always had to throw around the same way supermodels threw around their bodies. It sickened him. The headbanging was ridiculous. Did these men know that they could possibly give themselves concussions from such nonsense?<p>

Bruce could never even stand to watch the tv when they were on. Supermodels were easier, of course, but rockstars were such a pain.

But it was in the Batmobile where his annoyance of headbanging really kicked in.

In the passenger seat was his little raven-haired boy, fourteen and discovering the true gloriousness of Aerosmith and other such bands. The kid had his iPod clutched tightly in one hand, earbuds blocking out the roaring of the Batmobile's powerful engine. His eyes weren't yet hidden behind the black and white domino mask.

And he was headbanging.

Bruce found nothing in the world more annoying.

Barry Allen was annoying. He never shut up. He was never on time. He was irritating as Hell to the Dark Knight to work with.

Clark Kent was annoying. Captain Perfect was a better title for him than Superman would ever be. The only thing Batman even remotely liked about him was the way he could shut up.

Oliver Queen was annoying. Always trying to purposefully irritate Batman. Always harassing Bruce to come to Celebrity Poker Night.

But never before had Bruce found his own son so bothersome. He couldn't deny it. The kid's headbanging was bothering him. The Dark Knight bothered by his little bird. What was the world coming to?

In one swift motion, his right hand lashed out and clasped the top of the raven-haired boy's head, stopping it in place. "Don't do that."

Dick pulled out an earbud and tilted his head questioningly to one side, blue eyes pitiful and confused. "Why? What did I do wrong? If this is about me not cleaning my room-"

"Your brain could fall out." Anything to get the kid to _stop_. Lying was so wrong, but just asking for kid to stop would mean Dick had found one of the few things that irritated him more than Wally West.

Baby blues widening, Dick froze in the passenger seat. With a horrified stare at Bruce, he slunk down in his seat and put his earbuds back in, making sure he wouldn't do that anymore. He didn't want his brain falling out...

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><p><strong>AN: Because Bruce is annoyed by a lot of things. Leave a review.**

**~Sky**


	12. The Coffee Mug

**A/N: Just a short one since I kinda just got this idea and can't expand on it too well.**

**Disclaimer: No.**

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><p>They were quietly sitting in the coffee shop, typical Monday morning. He was in his suit, his ward in his school blazer. Bruce had a mug of coffee in front of him while Dick was drinking his own smoothie concoction, something with mango in it was all that he knew.<p>

The boy's eyes wandered from the window to the people inside the shop. There was a pretty redhead he identified quickly as Babs grabbing a croissant before heading out to get to class, her car sitting just outside the building. He watched as Bette quickly followed, the two girls getting into the vehicle before heading off, not even realizing their friend was nearby.

He watched as a mother soothed her slightly crying child in his stroller, the tiny baby reaching out for something to hold onto. The woman seemed frantic to get her child quiet before the screaming started.

And then there was a man across the coffee shop with his head in a newspaper. A hat was drawn down over his eyes and a cigarette dangled between his lips; smoke curled off the end of it in cloudy wisps.

At the next table, a man handed a gift to his son, maybe a few years younger than Dick himself. This made Grayson watch for a longer moment as the boy's surprised eyes glinted with joy. He pulled the lid off the small box after ripping off the shiny red paper. He pulled out a coffee mug. A smile lit up Dick's face when he saw the Batsymbol on it, and when the boy turned it around, he saw the words "World's Greatest Sidekick" on it in giant black letters.

"Bruce."

The billionaire's attention was on his ward instantly. He didn't ask, he just waited for Dick to continue speaking. Bruce knew how the acrobat operated.

He tilted his head to indicate to the next table over where the mug was being filled for the young boy. "Why don't you ever get me one of those?"

In a subtle way, he turned to see what Richard was talking about. When he saw the father and son duo, he turned away, blinking slowly to look out the window once more. "Why would you want one of those?" he asked before taking a sip out of his mug. "You don't drink coffee."

Sighing, Dick said, "Bruce, it's not that. It's the point behind it." He put a finger to his temple to prop his head up while giving his mentor a dry look. "What do you get me for my birthday every year?"

"Whatever you ask for. Within limitations."

"Exactly," said Dick, giving his mentor a look. "So I'm kind of spoiled. But here's my question: do you ever get me anything meaningful? Something more than skin deep."

Bruce was thoughtful for a long moment. He gulped down more coffee. After a few seconds, he responded, "The painting."

The painting of his parents. That commission was a few hundred thousand. Richard could never thank Bruce enough for that one. He pouted slightly at his loss before continuing his rampage. "What I mean is that there's never anything substantial that means more than just the basketball court or the new cycle or anything, right?"

He paused. He drank some coffee. He put down his mug. "You're saying you don't like the basketball court? Or your new motorcycle?"

Grayson put his hands up, halting Bruce before he started twisting his words. It was something the man had gotten good at over the years. "I didn't say that. I love my bike, thank you very much!" the boy ran one hand through his ebony hair. "What I'm saying is that we should start giving each other more meaningful gifts."

"You buy _my_ presents with _my_ money."

"Let's not go there, Bruce."

The man sipped his coffee to hide his grin.

"The point is we should stop playing the who-can-spend-more-money game and start playing the let's-be-sentimental game." He only wanted something a little more important than a thousand dollar present…

One of Bruce's eyebrows arched. "So I should get you a coffee mug?"

The man was finally getting it. Dick leaned back in his chair and downed more of his smoothie. "Yeah." He grinned. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"So that's all I need to get you for your birthday?" questioned the billionaire with a sip of his drink and a mocking smirk directed at his ward.

His eyes went wide, and a bit of panic wormed its way into his chest. "Woah, hey, Bruce, let's not get crazy now…"

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><p><strong>AN: Very nonchalant scene. Sorry I haven't been doing these lately. I've been on an Artemis kick. Review?**

**~Sky**


	13. Blame

**A/N: Shorty one XD**

**Disclaimer: No.**

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><p>Dick looked at the destruction and felt Bruce's glare burning into his skin. "Hold up, so it's alright if you blow up the Batcave, but whenever I blow it up, there's an issue?"<p>

He put a hand to his temple, wondering what he would do with this destructive little eleven-year-old. He'd just gotten a set of hand grenades for emergency use only, and in less than five hours, the Batcave was a danger-zone. Bruce just couldn't fathom what he'd done wrong to deserve stuff like this. There were things Dick did that drove him crazy. Like this. "It's _my_ cave," he heavily sighed.

The kid's lips pursed and he shot Bruce an accusatory look. "So?" After receiving a bit of a glare from his father, Dick lifted his chin indignantly. "I live here too, you know."

"Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to your room."

"Okay." He wasn't dumb enough to argue.

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	14. Utilities

**A/N: Here's another fun chapter of this. Took me a while to get inspired, especially because this fic can be hard without a good thought behind a chapter.**

**Disclaimer: No, don't own.**

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><p>"Smoke bombs." He took the small pellets and carefully set them on the table so not to set them off.<p>

"Uh-huh."

"Taser." He put the device, barely bigger than his thumb, on the table.

"Lame," yawned Dick.

"But useful," said Bruce with one knowing glance to his newly adopted son. "It'll save you from a lot of situations, Richard."

"Still, I feel like Batman would use something cooler than a taser." His lips quirked into a frown, blue eyes dull and bored.

"If I called it a BatTaser, would that make it better?"

The boy paused and let his gaze drift off towards the cave's high ceiling to contemplate the posed question. And his clear, pristine cerulean gaze fell on Bruce after the answer had come to him. "Yes. Yes it would."

He was really coming to love this kid... "USB drive."

"The lessons in hacking were yesterday."

He pulled the communicator out of the Boy Wonder's newly designed belt and showed it to his ward. "Tap this and you'll be patched directly to Alfred in the Batcave, understand?"

"Uh-huh." Disinterested.

"Another important part of your arsenal will be this. A rebreather." He put the small black cigar-sized toy in front of the young hero. "Basically, it allows you to breathe underwater. It'll keep you from drowning should the situation arise."

He figured he'd definitely be using that a lot. He nodded and let his mentor move on down the line.

"Batarang." He took the sharp metal piece and set it on the table between them; the overhead fluorescent light made the piece glint menacingly.

Now his visage lit up like a child at Christmas. Richard Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the table in front of his mentor before looking Bruce right in the eye and saying one word: "Birdarang."

There was a moment of silence before Bruce raised one brow at his charge and looked at the presented piece of paper. The drawing was crude but recognizable. A few notes had been scrawled here and there to explain the sketches. "A birdarang?" he questioned.

"Same thing as a batarang," said the nine-year-old pulling the paper from Bruce's hand and putting it between them and smoothing out the crumpled edges. "Except it's more Robin friendly." If Batman had his own tools, why couldn't Robin have his own stuff? "See? The design is the same in some aspects, especially looking at the edges. Sharp enough to cut through things. And if you set the explosives in the middle of it where the base is thicker, there can even be room for a timer. And it'd be less black, more red."

Bruce raised one brow, giving the boy a look.

"Well, it'd be a different mold from your equipment, which I understand is an inconvenience, but it'll be more distinct from your things, separating our identities as Batman and Robin." A cheeky smile spread across his face.

"Then you'll have birdarangs." He took the drawing out from under Dick's fingers and folded it neatly into his own pocket. The billionaire continued to pull things out of his belt, only looking up for a heartbeat to see the delighted grin upon his ward's features. He then took out the glove.

This was new. The boy picked it up almost immediately, looking it over for more pieces. More smoke bombs? Tiny knives? "What's this?" Bruce didn't have this gear. His gloves were specifically used to cover his hands, just to keep fingerprints from being an issue. The gloves didn't do anything.

"You'll need a separate skill set from my own, especially in the field. This will give you plenty to work with." He began to pick apart nearly invisible compartments in the fingers of the glove. "Lockpicking tools are here, and they're pretty easy to access if cuffs become an issue."

"Sweet!" He was already reaching for the glove only for Bruce's sharp glare to send him back to his seat in silence. Dick put his hands in his lap and made sure not to touch it until the full explanation was done. He was a fast learner, something that he knew would make his training easier.

Bruce flipped it over, pointing to the USB port. "It's also a computer where you'll be able to upload data and download anything else you need. It has plenty of cords underneath wrapped up and twined into the rest of it that'll plug into basically any device, but that was yesterday." He and his apprentice even shared a smile for a moment. Then he flipped it back over. "Now the thing behind this is that it's a hologram." With the press of a button, the screen appeared between them, lighting up both faces with an ominous blue glow. "This makes it easier to carry, but also more dangerous-"

"-because it glows a lot more, meaning it runs a higher risk of giving away my position."

"Correct." He appreciated this boy's intelligence above all else. His physical abilities were sharp and honed, but his mind was the best aspect about him. "Therefore using it in pitch-black situations is not a good idea. But it, again, eliminates a monitor, more cords, etcetera." He put down the gauntlet. "GPS locator and all of your usual systems that I introduced you to yesterday are all programmed in, meaning you should be able to get past any motion sensors, heat sensors, or any other alarms and sensors."

"Got it."

The sound of the butler clearing his throat nearby interrupted Bruce's lesson. "It appears as though our good friend the Joker has taken Commissioner Gordon for ransom in the Gotham Museum. A few billion dollars are necessary for his release." He glanced between the two: the elder orphan kept his stoic face whereas his younger counterpart's visage held raw excitement.

"Are you ready?" asked Bruce, quiet and serious as his level gaze met that of his ward.

The child reached for his glove, already slipping it on with a wide smile. He looked back to his adoptive father. "I was born ready."

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><p><strong>AN: Review?**

**~Sky**


	15. In His Footsteps

**A/N: For those of you who are frequent readers of anything I write, you know I pretty much stay up crazy late at night to write this stuff. This one's a new record: 2 AM in a dorm room while my roommate yelled at me to turn off my cellphone light. Yup, new one. Anyways, here's another chapter.**

**Disclaimer: No.**

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><p>The shrill cry of his chirping cell phone ruined his apartment's sweet, crisp silence. Blue eyes raked the clock: neon green numbers read out six fifty-two. Dick picked up the call. "Hello?<p>

"Richard." His voice was lessmonotone, more sharp, taught like a drawn bowstring.

With a thin smile, he responded, "Hey, Bruce. How're you holding up?" He tugged his suit up his legs and overh is briefs, letting the skin-tight latex mold to his muscles.

He understood his former ward's jest, but the humor fell flat and died. Bruce cut right to the chase. "You're needed in Gotham."

"I figured as much." He'd assumed taht as soon as he recognized Bruce's familiar voice crackling through the phone. He pinned the cell between his shoulder and ear so as to hear his former mentor while sliding his arms into the uniform's sleeves. "What time?" Dick asked, reaching for his gloves.

"Tonight, ten. Tomorrow, six. Since I can't train them anymore, I need you to help out. Tim can't do it all." There was a brief pause, not so much as a lapse in conversation as much as a moment for solitary thought. "You understand the situation, Richard."

All too well. For once, a camera crew had managed to catch the Dark Knight in action, and the footage had been splayed all over television screens across the nation. Dick had already seen it too many times, the ache pulling at his heartstrings each time he watched a javalin stab right through Batman's kneecap; he was lucky that Red Robin had been on patrol in the area to catch him before he hit the concrete after falling off the rooftop. "I'll be there," promised Dick, slipping the gloves on his calloused hands and flexing his fingers for the right fit after repositioning the phone to hear his former mentor better. "And I'll be patrolling with..."

Finishing each others' sentences was just one side effect of working together so long. "Damian." Bruce knew that the phrase had been left open on purpose as if a question and yet not. "He seems to be the only one you can tolerate for long periods of time."

Really, he was fine with any of them, but Tim made him remember Jason and things seemed to go south from there. Babs wasn't bad, it was just that their chemistry on the battlefield didn't work like their chemistry out of uniform did. Steph? She was sweet. A little bit like Cassie, honestly, and Cassie fawned over him; that freaked him out, and therefore Stephanie freaked him out. Just a tad. Pushing that aside, he answered, "You know me, Bruce. Whoever you put me with, I'll manage." With one hand, he pressed a domino mask to his face, hiding his eyes beneath black and white. Bludhaven was waiting for their hero, but Gotham would call him once night fell.

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><p><strong>AN: Definite points if you see the line. Homophones, people. Homophones.**

**Anyways, review and thanks for reading!**

**~Sky**


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